


The Trial of Gilderoy Lockhart

by Sakubato



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 10:46:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakubato/pseuds/Sakubato
Summary: In the caves below Hogwarts, Gilderoy Lockhart tried to stun Harry and Ron before obliviating them.  The spell backfired, the cave collapsed, Harry beat the basilisk, and now they’ve returned to the school with a stunned Lockhart no one is quite sure what to do with.  Enter a newly unpetrified Hermione Granger.  Not only did the ponce try to attack her Harry, he LIED in a BOOK.  Now the brightest witch of the age is on a mission, her target: Gilderoy Lockhart.





	1. Fidelity to Friends

Fidelity to Friends

The first thing Hermione felt when she woke up was someone holding her hand. It felt hot and sweaty and perfect. She wasn’t sure why she thought that, but it felt familiar. Cracking an eye open, she saw a mop of unruly black hair laying on the side of her bed. Harry, she realized, of course it was him.

She must have moved or something, because Harry’s head rose, his striking green eyes catching hers. She saw something new, something she’d never seen in them before. Harry had always been rather care free, his eyes seemed to always have a bit of laughter in them. The dark glint in them now was definitely not laughter though, it was fear.

“Harry,” Hermione’s voice cracked, “What’s wrong? Are you ok?”

“I...I…” Harry hesitated, then shook his head, a tear glinting in his eye. “No, I'm not… You almost died… I almost lost you and I couldn’t do anything.”

“Oh Harry, I’m right here.”

“Now, but when you were petrified, when all i could do is sit, and talk at you, and you could just lay there, unmoving….” Harry’s voice was cracking, she could hear the fear and pain in it. “I thought I'd lost you, I'd lost you and I couldn’t do anything to bring you back. It…. I’m sorry I never understood what you went through seeing me hurt, that I never listened to you tell me to be more careful.”

“Harry,” She reached up with her hand to pull him up so she could hug him. His clothes were covered in dirt and grime, and he smelled, she realized. “Harry, what happened to you, are you OK?”

“I’m fine Hermione, just tired.” Harry waved her concern off, “The important thing is you’re ok now.”

“Harry,” Hermione scolded him, her tone warning. “What happened?”

“Well,” Harry hesitated, “Me and Ron found your note yesterday, and we figured everything out, even where the chamber was. We were on our way to tell Dumbledore when we found them discussing another message. It said ‘her skeleton shall lie in the chamber forever’. They said Ron’s sister was down there, and Lockhart was tasked with retrieving her, as he’d been bragging about knowing were the chamber was for weeks.”

“He did?”

“Claimed to,” Harry clarified, “When me and Ron went to him to tell him about the Basilisk, we found him packing and claimed he’d been called away, urgent business.”

“Well he is a very important man,” Hermione hesitated.

“Hermione, he refused to try to find Ginny, said it was a terrible tragedy but at least it wasn’t him.”

“He did?” Her incredulous tone said much about her disbelief.

“Yeah, then he tried to stun me and Ron.” Harry told her, “But we got the drop on him and forced him to go with us into the chamber.”

‘Where was it?”

“What?”

“The Chamber of Secrets, where is it?”

“Oh, it’s in Myrtle's bathroom,” Harry said blushing, “she was the student that was killed last time.”

“Oh,” Hermione leaned back “That actually makes sense, I think.”

“Anyway, it’s under the sink,” Harry continued, “we got down to the caves, and Lockhart tricked Ron and tried to stun us again. Nearly killed us when the spell backfired and caused a cave-in.”

“He what?”

“He tried to use Ron’s wand, it backfired, and cause a cave-in,” Harry repeated. “I was on one side, Ron and a stunned Lockhart on the other.”

“Harry, this sounds truly death defying, but are you sure he wasn’t trying to protect you, keep you from danger or something?” Hermione asked skeptically, “I mean he is a teacher, and a famous wizard after all.”

“Hermione, you’re not still on about him are you?” Harry was flabbergasted, then at her arch look continued. “I know we agreed back in October to self-study more practical stuff but i thought you had figured out he was a phony then.”

“A what? He’s a great wizard.”

“Fine, if he’s so great, tell me this: When did he conquer the Wagga-wagga Werewolf?”

“It was the fall of 1986, really Harry, you’d know this if you actually studied.” Hermione huffed.

“And when was he crossing the Atlantic with the Vampires?” Harry asked, pressing on.

“They left South Africa in late August of ‘86 and arrived in Havana in…” Hermione trailed off, her brain finally caught up to what Harry was trying to tell her. “In mid-November. But he couldn’t… that was… He LIED?”

“I think so,” Harry agreed, “I mean, think about it, what has he actually taught us this year? Most of his homework is about him and most of the stuff in class is acting out scenes from his books.”

“But...But the books….” Hermione seemed to be lost, before she turned to Harry, fury in her eyes.

“He must pay.” She said in a cold tone that made Harry shiver. Then she looked oddly at him, and asked in a much softer tone, “Why are you so dirty?”

Harry couldn’t help it, he laughed. Not a little chuckle either, it was a full, deep belly laugh.

“Sorry, but I love the way you get focused like that.” Harry grinned as he looked at her, the laughter back in his eyes. ‘Anyway, after the cave in, I went ahead, fought the Basilisk and the artifact Voldemort was using to control…”

“Voldemort?” Hermione cut him off, “What did he have to do with it?”

“He opened the chamber the first time, he’s the Heir of Slytherin.” Harry explained, “The Diary i found was his, his name is Tom Marvelo Riddle, it’s an anagram for I am Lord Voldemort. Anyway, the diary was controlling Ginny, so i fought the Basilisk, killed it, destroyed the diary, and rescued Ginny. Didn’t really expect her to still be alive honestly.”

“Just like that?” Hermione asked suspiciously.

“Well maybe not that easy,” Harry admitted shyly, “But those are the basics, yes.”

“And just why does your arm have that nasty scar on it?” She asked pointing at his torn right sleeve.

“Oh it’s nothing.” Harry waved her off, “When I killed the Basilisk he bit me, no big deal.”

“No big deal?” Hermione near screamed, “Harry you should be dead, Basilisk venom is very deadly.”

“It’s Ok, Fawkes healed me.” Harry said, dismissively, “The important thing is that you are ok.”

“Harry?” Hermione asked softly after a minute trying to process things.

“Yes?”

“If you didn’t expect Ginny to still be alive, why didn’t you and Ron clear the cave in before you went after the Basilisk?”

“Oh, that...“ Harry got very nervous, “Well, you see… I was angry at it.”

“You were angry at it, so you didn’t wait and just wanted to throw your life away trying to kill one of the most deadly creatures known to wizard kind?”

“Not exactly…” Harry rubbed the back of his neck and refused to meet her glare.

“What then? What made you so angry that you didn’t wait for help? What made you nearly throw your life away?”

“It hurt you!” Harry said suddenly, forcefully. Realizing what he’d said, looking at her shocked expression, he continued softly. “I couldn’t think straight because I knew it had hurt you. It had tried to take you from me and I… I really didn’t like that.”

“Oh,” Hermione’s shocked answer came in a puff as her world was tossed upside down. A moment later she smiled and looked at the very nervous Harry, “I guess we need to make sure that doesn’t happen again then, huh?” And she kissed his cheek.


	2. Litigating like Lawyers

Litigating like Lawyers

“I found it Harry!” Hermione’s excited voice called out two days later.

It had taken some time, but they’d agreed to see what being more than friends meant and so far it meant a lot of time in the Library. Not that Harry was complaining, as both had realized they really liked being together, but it also meant he was helping her on her crusade. And it was all his fault, though the pecks on the cheek were nice.

After their conversation about Lockhart, Hermione had done a long hard reflection on the actions and, as she now called them, the clueless abominations of fiction of Professor, no, Mr. Lockhart. They’d started by creating a timeline, and found four different times he claimed to be in two places at once. Then her mind suitably critical and no longer in awe of the man, addressed the errors in how, why, and what he had done in each of his works. The list was staggering.

Presented with what was apparently a massive con artist as a teacher, especially once Harry admitted Lockhart’s plan outside the chamber was to stun then obliviate them, she turned to others for help. With the pointed help of Professors Flitwick and McGonagall, who because of their oaths to the school couldn’t actively help them find the information they needed, they had retired to the library to research.

“What did you find?” Harry asked, looking up from the tome before him, wondering if his eye would start bleeding soon.

“I found our answer,” Hermione said, bringing the ancient parchment over to Harry, “It’s part of the Hogwarts Charter. We can request an Educational Review of Lockhart.”

“What’s an Educational Review?”

“Basically, if we can get enough people to agree, the students that is, we can ask a trio of outside individuals to review his effectiveness.”

“So basically like a trial?” Harry pondered, “That seems like a lot of work.”

“Oh yes, I'm sure it will be, but we can do it.”

“We?” Harry asked dubiously, “What can I do?”

“You’ll help me.” Hermione said matter of factly. “First, we need to figure out just what he’s lied about. Obviously his books are rubbish, but maybe they hold enough truths to find the real stories.”

“Sound tedious,” Harry groaned, then brightened. “I know, I'll look into is introduction spiel. If that is part of what got him hired, if we show that is false it would show he should never have gotten the job in the first place.”

“Good idea Harry.” Hermione agreed. “And though the students have to start the process, it doesn’t say that the other teachers can’t assist us. Maybe Professor McGonagall or Professor Flitwick could help us.”

“Considering the comments they had about him when we talked to them about how to get rid of him, I'd say they definitely want to help.” Harry quipped. “If nothing else, maybe they can help with communicating with people outside the castle.”

“True,” Hermione agreed, “So we need to plan this. First, who can we request for the tribunal, we need three.”

“Someone from the Ministry?” Harry suggested cautiously, “Maybe like their secretary of education or whatever?”

“Good Harry,” Hermione agreed, jotting that down, “Maybe someone from the board of Governors as well, now that Malfoy’s not on it.”

“He shouldn’t still have allies there, he did threaten them all after all.” Harry agreed, “Does Hogwarts have an administration? Someone that just does paperwork and manages things but isn’t a teacher? Maybe from the accounting part or something. Then everyone is related to Hogwarts, but not directly involved with Lockhart.”

“That’s brilliant Harry,” Hermione agreed, writing all this down. “Oh, and one of them should have a child that goes to Hogwarts, if possible, that’ll really help.”

“So that’s the Tribunal, what about the rest?”

“Well, hopefully Professor McGonagall will help us with some of this, but I think the big ones should be about his Credentials, his teaching, and…” She looked nervously at him, “His attack on you and Ron.”

“Why do we need to….” Harry trailed off and sighed, “His attacking students to cover for himself is a big deal, isn’t it?”

“Yes Harry, I'm sorry but it will make our case that much stronger.” Hermione leaned over to give him a half hug. “But maybe Professor McGonagall of Professor Flitwick has an idea how we can show it without you having to tell them yourself.”

“I hope so,” Harry sighed, leaning into the hug. He was getting much more comfortable with physical expressions like hugs, and even the occasional kiss on the cheek, at least from Hermione.

“I know it is hard, but it really does show what kind of person he is.” Hermione squeezed him again, “It’s hard to believe he’d… anyway, what else do we need to do?”

“Actually get the others to sign the thing?” Harry asked.

“Already taken care of.” Hermione said evasively, “We should have it by this afternoon, or at least something we can use instead.”

“How? Who did you…” Harry trailed off, remembering the only other visitors she’d had while in the hospital wing. “Not Ron, he’s a good bloke but not one you’d trust… the twins?”

“They’re agreeing to not prank anyone who signs it till the end of school.” Hermione informed him, “They even agreed to the first week of next year for those returning.”

“And how did you get them to agree?” Harry asked, “Exams are over and this is prime prank time for them. I still shudder from what happened last year.”

“I pointed out that next year is their OWL year, and they could either help, or Lockhart will be back and teaching them to act out the spells they have to use on the tests or they get someone who might actually teach something they can use.”

“And they bought it?” Harry asked dubiously,

“Oh yes, definitely” Hermione said with a bit much surety.

“What else did you promise them?” Harry asked, realizing she was hiding something.

“Oh nothing much…” Hermione apparently found the ceiling of the library very fascinating, “I may have promised to help them with a project or two. A couple potions they need help with.”

Realizing this as probably the most he was going to get out of her, Harry sighed. “Just remember i look terrible with purple hair.”

“You’re not mad?” She asked curiously

“Not really, it needs to be done.” Harry admitted, “Plus I know whatever you’re involved in will be safe, unlike some of their experiments. I remember the explosions last summer.”

“Thanks Harry,” Hermione smiled at him, “Now the last thing is who presents, I think it’s going to have to be us.”

“Presents what?” Harry asked, getting nervous again.

“Presents the case against Lockhart.” Hermione clarified, “We’ll be at the center of the research, even if we’ll have help soon. And I'm sure one of the teachers will help, but most of it will be us.”

“So speaking in front of everyone, great.” Harry was pretty sure he’d have to find a mop to get all the sarcasm that was dripping from that statement. “You know I hate talking about this stuff.”

“I know Harry, and i hate to say it but you’re the boy-who-lived in this society that loves to hyphenate.” He cracked a small grin, “But I think we both need to work on talking more grown up. I’d call it professional but that sounds too tedious. We need to talk at a higher level so it feels more natural to them. Less like we’re whining schoolchildren.”

“So sound adult and they’ll treat us as more reliable than if we sound like children?”

“Precisely.” Hermione smiled at him, “So let’s start practicing.”


	3. Priming the Prey

Priming the Prey

“Order! Order!”

The smacking of a gavel cracked through the great hall as the elderly witch rapped it on the block before her. Griselda Marchbanks, Ex- Hogwarts Professor and current head of the ministry’s department of education, sat at the head table, trying to restore order. Her day had started so well, a simple request from Deputy Headmistress McGonagall to come to the school to help review a simple matter. Only it had not been so simple.

She’d arrived at the venerable front doors of Hogwarts and been met by Professor McGonagall along with two students; A bushy haired young witch and a dark haired young wizard, both second, maybe third year by the looks of them. Slightly odd as normally Albus ensured he monopolized her time, but definitely not unwelcome. The parchment they presented her however, changed everything.

_We, the students of Hogwarts, protest the methods, practices, and lack of verifiable ability of our current Defense against the Dark Arts Professor and request his qualifications be reviewed by a tribunal of educated competent members associated but not involved persons, including a member of the Ministries Department of Education. We allege the current professor lacks both the credentials, as well as the ability, to perform his required duties. This is requested in accordance with Section 42, subsection 15 of the Hogwarts charter: Requesting noninvolved competent arbitration between students and faculty._

The list of names signed below this simple statement was impressive, almost five feet of parchment, separated by grade, hung below it.

“Minerva,” Marchbanks sighed, “What is this about?”

“The students,” McGonagall sighed, “Found a way to do what I could not. Get Gilderoy tossed out on his ear.”

“Gilderoy? Mr. Lockhart?” Marchbanks asked, confused, “But I thought he was a sure thing, his credentials…”

“Are rubbish,” The young witch interjected, “What kind of verification process is there? Harry could teach that class better. Heck, i bet he has more experience actually fighting the dark than flopheart.”

“Minerva?” Marchbanks asked expectantly.

“10 points to Gryffindor for telling such an accurate summation of the individual’s abilities, Miss Granger.” McGonagall stated with a grin, “Griselda, it really has been atrocious. But before we color your opinion, we have a request to make of you.”

“Very well,” She agreed after a moment, “What is it?”

“Ma’am,” The dark haired wizard said respectfully, “We would like you to chair the review into Mr. Lockharts actions and credentials.”

Oh how simple they’d made it sound. A bit of reviewing his actions, a smidge of twisting Albus’s whiskers, and a nice meal in the great hall. It was too good to be true. And it was.

Once she’d agreed, they’d led her into the anteroom of the great hall, where she met the other two they’d requested to review their case: Anton Greengrass and Hector Smidgeon, from the Board of Directors and the Manager of the Hogwarts trust respectively. She’d thought that was good, she had help. Nope, they were all being led around by their noses.

The impotent little…. No, being fair she really was a genius, little witch had presented them with copies of quizzes and tests from various years, along with the keys and the years ledger of DADA grades. She’d then informed them that lunch would be served to them here while they reviewed the information before them, then after lunch the great hall would be rearranged for the review to begin.

It had, at first, been quiet pleasant. The Hogwarts kitchens had done a magnificent job of lunch, which only made the review worse. The supposed tests and quizzes, certified by Professor McGonagall as having come from the DADA office, were travesties. What the blazes does Gilderoy Lockhearts favorite color have to do with defense? Looking over the tests, and the keys, they agreed this had to be some giant hoax. But why?

When they were led into the great hall, the trio reconsidered it being a prank. The head table had been removed, in its place a single table with three large comfy chairs behind it. Below the dais, two more tables sat facing it, with a podium between them and rows of benches lined up behind. The far table held a troubled looking headmaster and a smiling Gilderoy Lockhart. The nearer held the bushy haired witch, Miss Granger, along with Professor McGonagall and the dark haired boy. The benches behind them were packed with students. Every student it appeared. The only one not seated there was an older, probably seventh year lass, sitting between the two sets of tables facing them. She had lots of parchment, quills, and ink before her and she looked ready to write.

Once they were seated, they each read the note in front of them, outlining the procedure, and couple of notecards outlining the rules, with a reference book to the side for more in depth questions. First item, open the review, and allow opening remarks: the opening statement was even written for her, though noted as a guideline.

“I now call the review of the credentials of Gilderoy Lockhart to order, this, the tenth day of June, 1993. Griselda Marchbanks presiding, Anton Greengrass and Hector Smidgeon assisting. Penelope Clearwater recording, Miss Hermione Granger, Mr. Harry Potter, And Professor Minerva McGonagall representing the student body of Hogwarts. Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore stands with the subject of this review, Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart. Mr. Lockhart, do you have an opening statement?”

“Of course I do young miss,” Gilderoy jumped up grinning, his hand holding Dumbledor back and smile flashing away. “I…”

“It’s Director Marchbanks,” Griselda snapped. “I may have been ambushed into this but that doesn’t mean you can call me anything you like.”

“Of course, of course,” Lockhart waved her comment off, “I don’t see why this is necessary, everyone knows my qualifications. I am after all, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, 3rd class, honorary member of the Dark Force Defense League, and Five-times winner of Witch weekly’s most charming smile award.”

“Is that all?” Marchbanks asked pointedly.

“Well, I don't want to brag, it’s impolite.”

“Very well Mr. Lockhart.” Turning to the young witch at the other table. “Miss Granger, would you like to say anything?”

“Yes Director, thank you.” She responded politely, “First, I'd like to apologize for the speed in which this was sprung on you, we merely wanted to get this out of the way as expeditiously as possible as well as allow the Headmaster the maximum time possible to find a replacement should one be needed.”

“Thank you for that acknowledgement,” Griselda nodded, “Anything else?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Hermione gathered her breath. “It is our intention to demonstrate the inefficacy of Mr. Lockhart…”

“Professor Lockhart, Miss Granger.” The headmaster interrupted her.

“Headmaster, that is what we are here to determine.” Hermione returned, “Had he taught us anything more than the proper use of hair products, or the best way to press one's cloak for maximum effect, I'd be willing to grant him the title until it was deemed otherwise. As it is, he’s lucky I'll grant him Mr.” Hermione regathered herself, and pressed on. “As I was saying, Mr. Lockhart has yet to demonstrate any practical or even theoretical knowledge of the subject he professes to be an expert in. Due to this lack, he has jeopardized the educational future of every student in Hogwarts, and worse, actively endangered them. We have presented preliminary evidence to you and are prepared to present more if the need arises. There is a separate matter that i believe you should be aware of, though it has been passed to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was discovered that somehow, all correspondence coming from Hogwarts was altered to remove any criticism of Mr. Lockhart. We are unaware of who did this at this time and since mail tampering is illegal, it has been referred to the DMLE.”

“I see,” Marchbanks pondered for a second. The last bit was interesting, possibly damning to some, but not related to the issue at hand. “Very well, one moment please.”

Turning to her fellow Arbitrators, they held a quick conference, before deciding all would like more information. They debated how to proceed a bit, before voting to let Miss Granger have her head. They resumed their normal seats and b raced.

“Very well, Miss Granger.” Griselda intoned, “You may present your case.”


	4. Messing with Merlin

Messing with Merlin

“The first thing I'd like to address, is Mr. Lockhart's standard introduction.” Hermione informed the panel. “To do that, I’ve asked for some assistance. Mr. Harry Potter did the research on this so I'll turn it over to him.”

Hermione sat down, looking over as Harry gathered his notes and stood at the podium.

“I apologize if I don’t say things quite right, I'm not very good at speaking in front of a lot of people.” Harry said as he took the podium, “I started to research the first thing Mr. Lockhart claims about himself. His Order of Merlin.

“Now I'm not very knowledgeable about Orders of Merlin, I am Muggle raised.” Harry continued. “So the first thing I did was look at the requirements for one. There really aren’t any, i found. It’s publicly acknowledged they are high honors, but the actual method of getting one is pretty straight forward. One must place oneself in danger for the realm, they must then perform above and beyond the expectations, usually considered some great and selfless act. Then the Wizengamot must vote you the honor. Seems pretty straight forward.

“Mr. Lockhart,” Harry turned to the blonde ponce, “Would you be so kind as to inform us what you did to earn your Order of Merlin?”

“Well, my dear boy,” Gilderoy flashed his trademark smile, “It’s a long and detailed tale, I wouldn't want to detract from this fascinating endeavor you and your friend are taking us on.”

“Since it’s part of that endeavor, please, tell us.” Harry encouraged him, “It’s not like you to turn down a captive audience.”

“True, very true my boy.” Gilderoy laughed, “However, I’m afraid parts of the tale concerns state secrets so I really am unable to tell you how I earned it.”

“I see,” Harry said with a disappointed tone, “Well, can you at least tell us when you earned it? The year shouldn’t be secret.”

“True, but it’s not polite to tease ones’ audience.” Lockhart demurred.

“A date is not a tease, Mr. Lockhart, it is merely a fact.” Harry countered. “In fact, it should be part of the public record.”

All eyes were on Lockhart, who looked a bit uncomfortable then sighed and mumbled something.

“I’m afraid I didn’t get the Mr. Lockhart,” Penelope called from her recorders desk, “Could you repeat that please?”

“I said it was 1987.” Lockhart snapped, clearly frustrated.

“Thank you Mr. Lockhart,” Harry grinned at the git. He then turned back to the Arbitrators and addressed them, “Ma’am, Gentlemen, I’d like to now call Kingsley Shacklebolt, Senior Auror for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, to deliver a set of records from the Ministry that were requested for this review.”

“Is Auror Shacklebolt present?” Marchbanks called out, and nodded as a tall man of African descent rose at the back of the room.

“I am Madam,” His strong but oddly accented voice answered.

“And do you have these records?”

“I do.”

“Please bring them forward then.” She called him forward, where he passed a copy to each arbitrator, to Harry, and finally to the headmaster.

“As you can see Ma’am,” Harry stated, “This is a Ministry Record of all Order of Merlin recipients in the last fifty years. Please note, Mr. Lockhart’s name is not on it.”

“I told you it was a secret awarding.” Lockhart protested, “Of course it won’t be on that list.”

“If it’s so secret, why do you claim it at every chance?” Harry countered, “Such an accomplished man such as you claim to be would surely understand the need for discretion.”

“I… well….” Gilderoy stuttered.

“Let’s approach this another way,” Harry cut him off. “Every order of Merlin is numbered and when presented, tied to the owner. It may be presented and freely offered to others, but any who wish to take it without permission it causes pain. What was your order of Merlin number Professor Dumbledore?”

“Mine? Why it was forty-two.” A confused headmaster answered.

“Thank you professor,” Harry continued, “As you can see, that matches the records before you. There were three given during the War with Voldemort, two are posthumous, one is still an Auror. That would mean yours, Mr. Lockhart, would have been Number forty-six, wouldn’t it?”

“Stands to reason,” Lockhart conceded, unsure of where this was leading.

“According to the Ministry Records, Mr. Lawrence Wallace was awarded order of Merlin number forty-six. He was awarded it for preventing a dam from bursting after a fight with a former death eater. The strain severely damaged his Magical core and has since retired with his wife. Professor McGonagall was kind enough to travel to see Mr. Wallace, she returned with something quite extraordinary.”

McGonagall stood from her chair at the table, and approached the podium. From within her robes, she withdrew a Royal blue velvet case, emblazoned in gold with a crossed sword and staff. Everyone who saw it recognized the sigil as that of the order of Merlin.

“When I spoke to Mr. Wallace, I explained the situation and what the students suspected.” Minerva told the assembled hall, “He was kind enough to offer his assistance. While he is too frail to travel magically due to his injuries, he did offer this to assist us. It is his Order of Merlin, Second class, presented to me and me alone for the time of one week. Anyone else who tries to handle it are warned that magic will not allow it.”

“Thank you professor,” Harry spoke as McGonagall walked to the table and showed the Arbitrators the medal. “Now, I'm sure some will say it’s fake, or we’ve enchanted it. Professor Dumbledore, as an acknowledged master in many forms of magic, could you please inspect this medal to assure us it’s genuine?”

“I…” Dumbledore started, then nodded, “Of course my boy. May i Minerva?”

The crowd watched as Minerva McGonagall carefully presented the medal in its velvet case and held it out to Dumbledore. Careful not to touch it, the headmaster visually inspected it, then cast several charms, causing it to glow green, then blue, and finally gold.

“Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore said once he was done, “This is, to my best ability to determine, absolutely genuine.”

“Thank you Headmaster.” Harry nodded to the old wizard, the seemed to gather himself. “There are two more things before we’re done with this awe inspiring piece of evidence. First, I believe an example of what happens when someone who doesn’t have permission to hold it is in order. Professor McGonagall, may i see the medal please?”

“Mr. Potter, you know what will happen to you if you touch it, don’t you?” McGonagall asked carefully, obviously concerned for her charge.

“I do,” Harry confirmed, “I’m sure it’ll be painful, but no more than being bitten by a Basilisk.”

The stunned expression on the arbitrator’s faces told Harry he’d slipped up.

“Sorry Ma’am, Sirs, a story for another time.” He grinned at them, idly scratching at the scar on his forearm. He then carefully reached out and touched the gleaming silver medal in McGonagall’s hand.

Blue lightning erupted from the medal, arcing up Harry’s arm as he screamed in pain, every nerve fighting for the right to say it hurt the most. The crowd gasped as the young man twitched and jerked as blue discharges raced over his body. All that stopped Harry from crashing to the floor was quick grasp from Hermione, who’d jumped up as soon as he’d touched the medal. Her hug, tightly holding Harry up from behind, caused her to catch a few sparks of her own before them settled and Harry stood unsteadily on his own feet. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek in thanks and turned back to the head table.

“Ok, maybe it is worse.” He admitted wryly, “I’m sorry to have frightened you all by that display, but I assure you it was necessary. Mr. Lockhart, you assure us that you were awarded Order of Merlin number forty-six. Please, show us it’s true: Pick up the medal.”

Silence reigned


	5. Lying about the League

Lying about the League

The chaos from Lockhart’s refusal to touch the medal had finally died down. It was apparent that his defense that this obviously wasn’t his since his was Third class was not well received. Harry granted that this was true, then asked him to produce his, which he failed to do, again with a very flimsy excuse.

“Since we seem at an impasse here, we shall be moving on.” Harry said with a tremble to his voice, an obvious after effect of touching the medal. “I am going to turn this over to Professor McGonagall and take a seat for a bit, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course Mr. Potter,” Griselda acknowledged, “In fact, Madam Pomfrey, could you check the young man and do what you can for him?”

“Of course,” The hospital Matron responded, moving forward to check on Harry as he sat next to Hermione.

“Honored Arbitrators,” McGonagall began after getting the nod from Hermione, “We will move on to Mr. Lockhart’s second claim, his membership in the Dark Force Defense League.”

“Professor,” Mr. Greengrass cut her off, “As fascinating as this is, may I ask the relevance? I thought we were review his teaching, not his past.”

“We intend to establish he didn’t have the qualifications he claimed.” Minerva explained, “We intend this to show he should never have been given the position in the first place, before moving on to his deplorable acts as a professor.”

“I see,” Greengrass turned to his fellows, and seeing there nods, continued. “Very well professor, please continue.”

“Thank you,” Minerva glanced at the notes in front of her, then began. “For reference, the Dark Force Defense League was a coalition of like-minded fellows started by Minister Bagnold to form something of a non-ministry organization to counter those who had fallen to darkness. Originally containing eighteen member, that has fluctuated between twelve and twenty-nine through the years. There are also several who are honorary members, as their jobs prevent them from being full time members. Myself, Professor Dumbledore, and Professor Flitwick are all honorary members ourselves. We received that honor together, in acknowledgement of our efforts during the Grindelwald and Voldemort wars.

“Mr. Lockhart, may we ask what deeds you performed that caught the eye of the League?”

“Of course,” Gilderoy brightened at the prospect of expounding his deeds. “I believe it was a number of things, among them my work with the Wagga-wagga Werewolf, as well as Banishing the Banshee of Broad Brook. For details see my collected works.”

“I see, we’ll get to your works of fiction later.” Minerva waved the last bit off, “For now, who was it that approached you to be a Member?”

“Why, the Minister of course.” GIlderoy laughed, thinking the question obvious.

“Which Minister?”

“I’m sorry,” Lockhart was obviously confused.

“I mean,” Minerva was the one grinning now, “That you claim to have become a member in ‘88. That was the year the Minister Bagnold retired and Minister Fudge was elected, so which minister approached you?”

“Er… Bagnold.” Lockhart hesitated just a moment before answering.

“I see.” Minerva was still grinning.

“Professor?” Hermione said quietly, but projected so the whole hall heard her, “Minister Bagnold retired at the end of 1987, not in 1988.”

“You know, you’re right.” Minerva turned back to Lockhart. “As Miss Granger just pointed out, Minister Bagnold couldn’t have approached you in ‘88 since she was no longer minister.”

“She approached me in ‘87,” Gilderoy scrambled, “But the paperwork didn’t go through till ‘88.”

“Uh huh,” Her years of teaching showing as she showed her mistrust of the statement without saying anything, “Very well then. Next question is simple enough. Why honorary?”

“I’m not sure I understand your question Minerva.”

“It’s Professor McGonagall if you please,” The Scotswoman snapped, “It simple really. The other professors and I were unable to join as full members as we were tied down to the school, teaching. We were unable to drop everything to go fight at a moment’s notice. You however, were not tied down, in fact, I don't believe you had a job at the time. Why did you turn down the opportunity to be a full time member?”

“Well, I… uh…” Lockhart stammered a bit, then seemed to have a bright idea. “That was just before I spent my year with the Yeti. I had already made the arrangements and couldn’t cancel the trip.”

I see.” Minerva’s disdain was evident. “You turned down a chance to help thousands as a member of the defense league to go on holiday in Tibet for a year? Glad you had your priorities straight.”

“Well it as a very good trip…” Gilderoy didn’t seem to believe himself, no one else did either.

“Moving on,” McGonagall’s brisk Scottish accent leaking through, “You were at least sworn in, weren’t you?”

“Of course I was,” An affronted Lockhart defended himself, “I couldn’t be a member without it could I?”

“That’s good,” She turned to Arbitrators, “I’d like to call League Leader Harper to present the Leagues roll, if I may.”

“League Leader Harper is present?”

“I am, Director.” A thin man with a jagged scar on his left cheek answered.

“Very well, present the roll.”

The gentleman stood and walked up the aisle, and after nodding to Albus, Minerva, and Flitwick, stepped forward to give Marchbanks a scroll. The three arbitrators gathered around the scroll, looking down the names. Looks of consternation crossed each face as they reached the bottom, then concentration as they reread the whole list again. Another hushed conversation was held before they faced the audience again.

“Mr. Lockhart,” Marchbanks told the obviously nervous blond, “It appears that either there is a mistake in the rolls, or you aren’t a member. Do you have anything to prove you’re a member? Someone who was present at your swearing in?”

‘Er ...” The normally flamboyant man looked decidedly nervous. “I’m sure I have something somewhere…”

“I see,” Marchbanks was starting to wonder how she’d been so blind before when she thought he was a brilliant hire. Turning back to the Deputy Headmistress, “Unless you have anything else on this line, I suggest we move on for now.”

“Very well Director Marchbanks. I shall yield the floor to Miss Granger, who shall address Mr. Lockhart’s classroom abilities.”


	6. Troubles with Textbooks

Troubles with Textbooks.

“Let us start with the simplest item first, the Defense against the Dark arts Book list.” Hermione started, glaring at the grinning blond git. “In the past, the Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook has been expensive, yes, but always limited to one or two books. This totaled maybe ten Galleons, and often, would be used for at least two years per book. In the previous fifty years, the most expensive set of Defense books any year has had to purchase was eleven Galleons and three sickles for a three book set. Those books stayed on the list for the first four years of students.”

“I remember that one,” Marchbanks stated, “‘Practical Defensive Magic for Youths’ by Silvanis Silvermane. Great books.”

“Indeed Director, I love to reference it myself,” Hermione Blushed, “But the point I was headed for was that this was the Book list for this year: ‘Break with a Banshee’ By Gilderoy Lockhart, ‘Gadding with Ghouls’ by Gilderoy Lockhart, ‘Holidays with Hags’ by Gilderoy Lockhart, ‘Marauding with Monsters’ by Gilderoy Lockhart, ‘Travels with Trolls’ by Gilderoy Lockhart, ‘Voyages with Vampires’ by Gilderoy Lockhart, ‘Wanderings with Werewolves’ by Gilderoy Lockhart, and ‘Year with the Yeti’ by Gilderoy Lockhart.”

“That seems like a lot of books, I'll grant you.” Mr. Smidgeon leaned forward, “But one or two per year isn’t that bad.”

“You misunderstand me sir,” Hermione corrected the older man, “That is the book list for each year.”

“You mean to say that every student at Hogwarts had to purchase eight defense texts?” Marchbanks near roared, “Eight books for one class? All written by the instructor?”

“Yes Director,” Hermione confirmed, “For a total of a little over thirty-five galleons.”

“My word.”

“Those are great works!” Defended Lockhart, jumping to his feet, “They are great examples of defensive practices.”

“Would you like to present them as examples of your abilities?” Hermione asked innocently, causing everyone but Lockhart to look at her askance.

“Absolutely!” roared Lockhart, his grin conveying his belief that he had this uppity little girl right where he wanted her.

“Very well Mr. Lockhart, let us address the first issue with these books.” Hermione was suddenly very serious as McGonagall placed a stack of his works before Gilderoy. “Can you please show us where it instructs how to cast a spell?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Instructions on how to cast a spell please.” Hermione said, pointing at the books in front of him, “These are seven years’ worth of texts, they must have loads of information about spells and how or when to use them. Show us.”

“You’ve read them, you know how wonderful they are,” Gilderoy temporized, “There’s no need to flaunt it.”

“Flaunt it? Flaunt it?!” Hermione was almost screaming at this point, obviously highly agitated. “These books are best used for kindling. The only use in defense they have is as a shield. Not one, not one instance of something we can learn ourselves is in these vile creations of pure fiction of yours. Why… you... I ought to…”

Only Harry’s quick action to grab Hermione as she lunged towards the simpering idiot saved him. Struggling to hold back his best friend, he turned to the shocked arbitrators.

“I apologize for this outbreak, Hermione loves books, more than people sometimes.” He explained, “To her, what Lockhart did is beyond the pale. It would be like walking up to Merlin, dropping trow, and pissing on him in the Ministry atrium.”

“Harry, let me go!” Hermione demanded, still struggling to get at Lockhart.

“Not until you promise me not to hurt Lockhart.” Harry said, “Not until after the school year at least.”

“You ask too much,” Hermione pouted, “You’ve seen the mockery he’s made of books.”

“Just his own.” Harry soothed her, “If I promise to read Hogwarts: a History this summer, will you stop?”

“You’d do that?” Hope shone in her eyes, “For real?”

“For you, yes.”

“Fine.” Hermione agreed after a moment’s contemplation. “But I still think he needs to be castrated.”

“Not arguing, just don’t think now is the time or place.”

“If you say so.” Hermione turned back to Madam Marchbanks, “I apologize for my outburst.”

“I understand your love of books my dear,” Griselda told her, “But please try to restrain yourself a little better.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Very well, now where were we?”

“I believe Mr. Lockhart was refusing to show us the practicality of his texts.” Harry quipped, still standing by Hermione’s side.

“Ah yes, Mr. Lockhart?”

“Yes Director?”

“If you would, an example.”

“There are so many to choose from, I’m not sure where to start.” Gilderoy looked perplexed as he backpedaled. “There’s just so many to choose from.”

“Find one.” Marchbanks ordered.

“Here we go,” He called after a minute of digging through several books, “Chapter thirty-seven of ‘Wonderings with Werewolves’. Here I describe the after effects of the charm I used on the Wagga-wagga Werewolf.”

“And the charm was?”

“Thehomorphuscharm.” Gilderoy mumbled.

“Say again.” Marchbanks requested before Penelope could.

“I said the Homorphus Charm,” Gilderoy said dejectedly.

“I see,” Griselda leaned back, “That is quite the charm, and I’d say definitely post OWLs.” She peered out over the assembled students. “Who here can cast this charm?”

The students quietly looked back and forth, searching for who could. They searched until they found two students, one sixth and one seventh year that raised their hands. The seemed to shrink under the scrutiny.

“I see, well it is a hard charm to master, I guess it is a bit much to expect school children to learn it properly.” Griselda admitted, “Good on everyone for trying at least.”

“Ma’am?” One of them called, the seventh year Ravenclaw. He hesitated until Marchbanks gestured for him to continue. “I didn’t learn it in class ma’am.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well ma’am, my uncle was bitten a few years ago, by Fenrir Greyback.” The boy explained, “My uncle insisted everyone in the family learn it in case he every broke out during the full moon.”

“I see,” Marchbnks said softly, “I’m sorry never seems to cover it. I assume he uses Wolfsbane?”

“When he can,” The claw confirmed, “But the Ministry tax on the ingredients means he sometimes can’t afford it.”

“I see, well it’s good that his family is behind him.” She turned to the Sixth year puff who’d raised her hand, “Is it similar for you your lady?”

“Yes ma’am, my cousin.”

“I see,” She turned again to the assembled students, “Was anyone taught the charm in class?”

Blank stares and head shakes met her question.

“Madam Marchbanks,” Hermione broke the silence, “I had intended to wait to address this, but this line of questioning has brought it to light sooner than I expected.”

“And what is that dear?” A shell shocked Marchbanks inquired.

“I’d like to ask for testimony from Mr. Jordan Kare.” Hermione said with confidence.

“And why is his testimony relevant?” Mr. Greengrass asked politely.

“He’s the Wagga-Wagga Werewolf.” Hermione stated, and cringed as chaos erupted behind her.


	7. Words with the Wagga-Wagga Werewolf

Words with the Wagga-Wagga Werewolf

“You mean to say, this gentleman is the actual Wagga-wagga Werewolf?” Smidgeon asked flabbergasted, “But I thought he was dead.”

“No sir, he’s very much alive.” Hermione informed him.

“But I’m afraid testimony from a dark creature is not permitted.” Greengrass said evenly, “As interesting as it may be, he is a werewolf, and it is not permitted.”

“Actually sir, He would not be permitted to testify before the Wizengamot or at a trial, but this is not a trial.” Told the Arbitrators matter of factly. “It is merely an educational review, there is no ruling to bar his testimony.”

“I see,” Marchbanks said softly, “One moment.” And she and the other Arbitrators leaned in to confer. After a moment, she turned back to Hermione. “As much as I wish to believe you dear, this is something we feel we must check ourselves. This will likely take a bit so perhaps a recess? Take a break, stretch your legs and be back in fifteen minutes?”

“Of course Madam Director.” Hermione agreed and turned to her companions. 

There was a general murmur of conversation as everyone sat discussing the events so far. Harry and Hermione sat together, discussing back and forth. Minerva had cast a subtle notice me not over the pair, trying to give them a bit of peace as they prepared for this next bit. She pondered as she looked at the couple, just how close they really were. She thought back to the joyous reunion they’d shared a bit over a week ago, and smiled at the future prospects of the pair.

At the other table, it was not a happy conversation. Albus had tried to avoid this, but as the headmaster, the one who’d hired the blonde author, he had to stand beside him. He’d had his doubts, but the man had such a following, such presence, that he’d never questioned the background of the man. Ok, so maybe he’d been a little desperate, but still…

The students had returned to their seats and refreshments had been procured as the arbitrators finished their deliberations. After much discussion and several references to the large tome beside them, they appeared to have reached a decision.

“It appears,” Griselda began, after using the gavel to resume the review, “That Miss Granger is correct. The testimony of Mr. Kare will be allowed.”

“Thank you Ma’am,” The girl in question blushed.

“Mr. Kare, are you present?” Marchbanks called, and a distinguished gentleman in an impeccable suit rose. Those around him shied away, but still looked curious as he answered.

“I am Madam Director, and more than willing to testify.” He replied in a smooth baritone.

“Then please, come forward.”

The man seemed to ignore the stares, cringes and outright fear in the eyes of the students as he passed. Reaching the podium, he stood behind it, and nodded to the Arbitrators.

“Mr. Kare,” Mr. Greengrass began, “Please excuse my bluntness, but you are far from what I imagine a werewolf to be.”

“You mean I’m not a ravening beast?” Kare grinned, “Or since it’s been almost a week since the full moon, I’m not a decrepit, down-trodden, ragged excuse for a miserable human being?”

“To be honest, yes.” Greengrass admitted.

“Well sir, that is because there is so much bias against werewolves,” Kare explained, “There is so much written that is biased or just plain wrong about werewolves that is taken as gospel that it has slewed the image of werewolves into dark creatures.”

“Could you explain that more Mr. Kare?’ Griselda asked, leaning forward in interest.

“Of course Madam Director,” Kare smiled as he began to explain. “Before there were ways to control the wolf, or at least restrain it, werewolves were indeed very dangerous to be around. With the advent of steel cages, we were able to be restrained so as to be less harmful. Unfortunately many felt unduly persecuted and mistrusted this, leading to the more vicious of our kind. The ones who would intentionally place themselves near innocents, the malcontents, caused more persecution of all of us. With the wolfsbane potion, even more control of our other selves was possible.”

“Why then does…” Smidgeon started to ask, then paused. “Money.”

“Yes sir,” Kare confirmed, “There has been so much strife between the werewolf population and those that would condemn them for something that was never our fault, that the very thing we need to control ourselves, the wolfsbane potion, is regulated to be almost unattainable by those who need it.”

“And even if you can get it, it’s so expensive you can’t afford it.” Smidgeon continued, “And because of that you are condemned for not complying with regulations. Then for denying the ability to control yourselves you’re seen as wanting to be vicious killers.”

“Precisely.” Kare agreed. “At least in Britain. Other places are more accommodating.”

“Very well Mr. Kare,” Griselda cut in, “Now I believe the young lady to your right has some questions for you.”

“Of course,” Kare turned to Hermione, “What can I do for you young lady.”

“Well Mr. Kare, I was hoping you could explain to us what happened in Wagga-Wagga in your own words.”

“Certainly Miss,” Kare grinned, “I had no idea the stories that had been told about me in Britain, and am certainly willing to set the record straight. The first thing you need to understand is that I was only recently infected. It actually happened shortly before I moved to Wagga-Wagga. I had taken some time away to backpack through Europe, and had the misfortune to encounter a werewolf. It was outside of Rome, up in the hills. I woke up one morning far down slope from my tent, bruised and cut quite badly. It seems the werewolf had attacked then lost their grip and I tumbled down the mountain. I merely thought i had sleep walked and fallen.”

“Do you sleep walk often?” Hermione inquired.

“Not often, but it had been known to happen.” Kare admitted. “Anyway, this incident put the danger of it in my mind and I started to use a strong sleep aid when in strange places or when particularly agitated. This proved to be the cause of the Wagga-wagga mystery.”

“How so?”

“I would sleep through the transformation.” Kare explained, “I would go to bed before the moon rose, the sleep aide would prevent me from waking before the wolf took over, which it would as I was not using wolfsbane as I didn’t know I was a werewolf. When I’d wake up elsewhere, I merely thought I’d had a bad sleepwalking episode that the aides couldn’t stop.”

“I see,” Hermione said understandingly, “So what happened to put a stop to this?”

“I, like the rest of the town, was very afraid for the people due to this menace. At least that’s how I saw it at the time.” Kare grinned, “We asked a wandering wizard to assist us in confronting the beast. We were fairly simple folk, no great ones among us. He was kind enough to assist us, and the second full moon after he did, we captured the werewolf and he used the Homorpheus charm to force the reversion to human.”

“I imagine it was quite a shock to you when you woke up in the trap you’d helped set.” Hermione grinned.

“Indeed it was.” Kare agreed. “The Homorphus charm is quite painful, believe me. Reverting to my human form before the entire village in nothing but my boxers was just embarrassing.”

“At least it cured you though.” Hermione said offhand.

“Actually Miss,” Kare interrupted her, “The Homorphus charm only forces a temporary reversion. It lasts for at most six to eight hours. I turned again the next full moon.”

“So you weren’t cured, as was claimed?” Hermione sounded perplexed. “I hope the Village didn’t hold it against you.”

“No, once we figured out what had happened, they were actually quite supportive.” Care reflected with a smile. “The local Apothecary was willing to brew the potion, I helped work the fields that grew the ingredients one week a month to help pay for them, and i also patrolled the town on my full moon nights. Three dark objects found and two robberies foiled so far.”

“Incredible,” Marchbanks remarked, “simply incredible.”

“Now Mr. Kare,” Hermione cut through the murmurs, “Can you identify the Wizard that helped you?”

“Absolutely Miss,” Kare affirmed, “His name is George Hastings and I recently found he is a resident of your James Thickey ward at St. Mungos Hospital.”

“James Thickey Ward?” Hermione asked. “I’m afraid I am a first generation witch and am unfamiliar with St. Mungo’s.”

“The James Thickey ward is for long term spell damage Miss Granger,” Mr. Greengrass supplied. 

“Oh,” Hermione seemed surprised, “What happened to him?”

“Complete obliviation.” Kare’s smile finally faded, “No idea who he is or what he’s done.”

“I see,” Hermione said softly, “I’m sorry to dredge that up.”

“It’s ok.”

“One final question before you leave though.” Hermione said in a tone of regret while pointing at Lockhart. “Have you ever met his wizard before?”

“Miss, I’d never seen this man before today.” Kare said, anger lacing his voice, “But if what has been shown today, that he stole credit from the great man that helped me, he’d better hope I never do again.”


	8. Preventing Pesky Pixies

Preventing Pesky Pixies

Harry stood and took Hermione’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before taking over the podium. They both thanked Mr. Kare for his assistance, and wished him a pleasant trip home. Gathering a couple of notecards, Harry resumed the attack.

“Mr. Lockhart, Can you please describe the class you taught the second years on September the third?”

“That’s almost a year ago,” Gilderoy waved him off, “How am I to remember a specific class that long ago?”

“Normally I’d agree with you, but this was one of your first, and it was a rather spectacular failure, so I thought you’d remember.”

“I really don’t know what you’re referring to,” Lockhart denied, “There was never a failure of mine to teach. Perhaps you failed to learn, but I never failed at teaching, or anything for that matter.”

“I see,” Harry regarded him levelly, “So you don’t remember the class you taught us involving Cornish Pixies?”

“I may recall using them once or twice to demonstrate a spell or two.” Gilderoy admitted reluctantly.

“Good, do you happen to remember the spell you tried to teach us to confront them?” Harry asked, his tone trying and failing to convey innocence.

“I believe I do,” Lockhart was starting to get wary, “But there are so many ways to deal with the little imps, it’s hard to be sure.”

“Neville Longbottom,” Harry called over his shoulder, looking for the chubby Gryffindor, “Can you come up here please?”

“Neville,” Harry began in a friendly tone once his friend joined him, “Can you tell us the spell Lockhart taught us the day of the Pixie incident?”

“He didn’t teach us anything Harry,” Neville protested, “He let them loose, tried some made up spell, lost his wand, and ran away. It was you and Hermione that caught them all again.”

“Mr. Longbottom was it?” Marchbanks asked, kindly.

Yes Ma’am.”

Why do you say he made a spell up?”

“Well, once we talked about it,” Neville began to get nervous, “After Hermione and Harry saved us and got me down, we sounded it out. Peskipixie pestanome. Pesky Pixie Pester no me.”

“What was that?” Smidgeon asked in disbelief.

“The spell he claimed to use was Peskipixie Pesternome.” Harry supplied for his friend. Turning to Neville, he asked, “Are you willing to tell us how the class started and what happened once the spell didn’t work?”

“Sure Harry.” Neville agreed, then looked up at the Arbitrators. “It started pretty normally, He talked about himself. It was a lot more than most teachers say about themselves, but then he’s supposed to be famous. Next he gave us a quiz about himself. I thought it was some kind of get to know him things or something.”

“I believe we saw that particular quiz, Mr. Longbottom.” Griselda nodded.

“Well, next he showed us a cage of Cornish Pixies.” Neville said, “He acted like they were all dark and scary before he showed them to us. Then Seamus laughed about it, like Lockhart was joking or something.”

“He did love the dramatic,” Harry quipped from Neville's side.

“Yeah, but then Lockhart let them loose, all of them.” Neville continued.

“How many were there, Mr. Longbottom?” Mr. Greengrass asked kindly, “Four? Five?”

“About forty or fifty Sir,” Neville answered. The panel paled. Pixies really are quite easy to deal with, individually. The thought of facing a swarm of them however, was not a pleasant one.

Lockhart tried to stop them, He used that peskipix pestawhatsit spell no one had heard of or have been able to find. Trust me, Hermione tried.” Neville continued. “Anyway, when Lockharts spell didn’t work, one of the pixies stole his wand and tossed it out the window. They then tried to pull his hair and the rest were attacking us. He ran away, into his office. Before he left, he looked at the class, what was left anyway, and said: ‘I'll just leave it to you lot to finish rounding them up.’ Once he’d gone, the rest of the class fled as well. The only ones left were Harry and Hermione, who were using Immobulus to stop them, and me.”

“And why didn’t you flee Neville?” Harry asked, then added when he saw his friends face, “I’m sorry but it’s important.”

“It’s ok Harry,” Neville sighed, “I didn’t leave because several of the pixies had lifted me up and hung me from the chandelier.”

While there was some laughter from the other students, there wasn’t as much as you’d expect. Mostly it was the looks of incredulity from the panel. All three were looking at Lockhart, silently praying he’d deny it. Unfortunately, he seemed to be engrossed in the ceiling and not paying attention.

“Thank you Mr. Longbottom,” Griselda Said kindly, still glaring at Gilderoy. “Mr. Potter, anything to add about this incident?”

“Well ma’am, I feel it would be important to note that we successfully recaptured fifty-six Pixies.” Harry said matter of factly, “It took almost a week to find them all, but I think we got them.”

“Actually, you missed four Mr. Potter,” McGonagall piped up, “Mrs. Norris got one before she was petrified, and Hagrid moved the other three to the forest.”

“I stand corrected Professor.”

“So you’re telling me he let sixty pixies loose in a school?” Marchbanks demanded, “Just opened the cage and let them have their way?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Harry confirmed, “I will admit it was the last time he actually tried to use creatures in class. A lot of the rest of the time he just had us reenact scenes from his books, with himself as the hero, of course.”

“Have you learned anything about defense this year?” Marchbanks sighed.

“Oh yes ma’am, I've learned a lot.” Harry said gleefully, “It’s really nice when your best friend is obsessed with books and learning. Especially when she helps you learn it too.”

“I’m assuming by her blushing you’re referring to Miss Granger?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Harry grinned, blushing slightly himself.

“Have you learned anything from Mr. Lockhart?”

“Does what not to do or not to let him try to help you count?” The last bit was tinged with enough resentment that it had to be expanded upon.

“Mr. Potter, could you explain that last bit?” She asked, “It sounds like there’s something more there.”

Well ma’am,” Harry sighed, “There's two reasons for that. The first is he always seems to arrive just too late to actually do anything, but he always knows just what would have worked.”

“Has he ever been in time to help?”

“Yes ma’am, when I broke my arm during a Quidditch match.” Harry sighed, then looked angrily at Lockhart. “Had he not tried to help, I wouldn't have had to spend the night in the hospital wing.”

“Why would you need to spend the night for a simple arm break?” Marchbanks asked flummoxed, “That’s an hour, max.”

“Yes ma’am, I know.” Harry said resentment seeping into his voice, “At least it is if your incompetent teacher doesn’t vanish your bones.”

“Vanished your bones? Why on earth would he do that?”

“Because he knew just the spell.” Harry said sarcastically. “All I can say is thank god he had a broken wand when he tried to stun me and Ron or things would have really gone sideways.”

“I’m not going to like this story, am I?” Griselda sighed, knowing she was going to have to break out the good liquor tonight.


	9. Battling Basilisks

Battling Basilisks

Hermione’s hug settle Harry, letting him calm himself enough to not throw up. This had been the part he most feared, telling the confrontation in the chamber of secrets. They had talked about it, planned for it, but everything still felt raw, even if it did force him and Hermione to admit their more than just friends’ feelings for each other, such as they were.

“Next is a particularly difficult part of this,” Hermione said gently, squeezing Harry’s hand as she did. “Professor Dumbledore, I’ve been informed you possess an item called a Penseeve? Something that will allow others to view someone’s memories.”

“I do,” Albus wondered who’d let her know that bit of information. “And it’s called a Pensieve. But it is hardly large enough to fit everyone, and even its projection mode would leave many wanting.”

“That’s ok Sir,” Hermione continued, “When we were discussing this, Professor Flitwick informed me of a charm he’s capable of doing to connect the pensieve to a magical projection. He believes he can cause the projection to display on the ceiling.”

“Indeed?” Albus admitted he was impressed, “Quite ingenious. I assume you wish to borrow this device?”

“If we could.” Hermione confirmed, “I understand the events actually within the chamber should not be shown, but the ones leading up to it should and will, assuming you allow us the use of your Pensieve.”

“I have no objections, though I do feel the events within the chamber are not for general knowledge.” Albus rose, “If I guess correctly, perhaps you should give a general outline of events of the year, while I retrieve it?”

“That was the plan sir,” Hermione blushed as Albus left the hall, “Madam Director, I'm unsure if you are aware of the events that have been happening this year at Hogwarts, but I shall summarize. It all began Halloween night when Mrs. Norris, Mr. Filch's cat was found petrified in the corridor, beneath a sign that read ‘The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, Enemies of the Heir, Beware.’ This led to much supposition, and over the year, several other events occurred. First Colin Creevey was found Petrified, then Justin Finch-Fletchly and Nearly headless Nick. There were many who believed Harry was when it was discovered he was a parselmouth. Then I was Petrified with Penelope Clearwater on our way from the library a month ago. I had figured out what was attacking everyone.”

“How?” Marchbanks asked, “And what was it?”

“The how was difficult, but there were clues.” Hermione began to lecture. “It almost had to be a dark creature, but what? We found out from Hagrid someone had been killing all the roosters. Even the new ones he brought it. Then there was the fact Harry seemed to be able to hear it when no one else could. Not something we advertised, but it was true.” Hermione looked at her best friend. “That’s what helped me the most. I figured out it was a Basilisk. A snake that could kill with its gaze, but no one was dying. But that’s because no one saw it directly. Mrs. Norris saw it in a reflection from water on the floor. Colin saw it through his camera. Justin as it through nearly headless nick, and Nick saw it full on, but he can’t die, he’s already dead. I realized this and was using a mirror to peek around corners when we saw it.”

Harry moved beside her and put an arm around her, pulling her into a half hug.

“Ron and I eventually found the note Hermione had in her hand when she was petrified. It was a description of the Basilisk, and the word PIPES.” Harry continued, still hugging Hermione, “Which helped us figure out how the creature was getting around the castle. Once we had that, we knew what and how, but not where. Eventually, we figured out that Moaning Myrtle, the ghost in the second floor girl’s loo, was the student that had been killed the last time.”

“And what did you do with this information?” Greengrass asked. 

“We were on our way to tell the headmaster, when we found there’d been another attack.” Harry gulped, “this one had another message; ‘Her skeleton shall lie in the chamber forever.’ We learned that Ron’s sister had been kidnapped and taken into the chamber. The teachers left the task to Mr. Lockhart, who’d claimed he knew not only where the chamber was, but what was in it.

“We took off to the Defense classroom to tell him what we knew,” Harry glanced behind him as Dumbledore entered the hall with a large stone basin, “And that is where we shall begin the memory.”

Harry stepped forward to where Dumbledore had placed the pensieve atop the Arbitrators table. With Professor Flitwick's assistance, he placed a Memory into the pensieve. It shimmered silver and blue in the bowl, glowing slightly.

“I’ve placed my memory of the Pixie incident in first, to allow Professor Flitwick the opportunity to ensure his charms work properly.” He told everyone, as he stepped back and looked at the ceiling. Unfortunately, it was quite disorienting and soon the fishbowl view it was able to make started to hurt his head. Flitwick stopped, the projection, and after a bit of consulting with McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Hermione, instead used the projection charm they normally used in classrooms to display it on the wall. As the images resumed, Harry made a mental note to remind Malfoy about his bravery in being the first to run from the pixies, and to congratulate him on being the first to make it out the door despite being in the front row.

Once the scene was complete, Flitwick helped him place the memory of his last encounter with Lockhart in the bowl, and sighed. Everyone watched as he and Ron confronted the fleeing man, watched as he spoke of him proficiency with memory charms and his intention to use them on them, to leave Ginny below and keep himself safe while telling a tale of woe. They saw Ron and Harry get the drop on him, forcing him to accompany them after Ron’s sister. When Harry opened the sink in the Girls loo, the Parseltongue came out in a weird double speak, one the hisses of parseltongue, and a hissing English version over top of it. When they came upon the shed basilisk skins in the caves, several of the girls shrieked. The roars of anger as Lockhart stole Ron’s wand and tried to stun them seemed to make the room swell, and the cheers when everyone saw they’d made it out of the cave in safe were reassuring. 

As the scene faded, Griselda had to use the Gavel before her as the audience called to see the rest, to see Harry fight the basilisk.


	10. Professors in Prison

Professors in Prison

“Order! Be quiet and sit back down.” She yelled, her voice amplified by a sonorus charm. Once everyone had returned to their seats, she continued, “As much as I agree with your desire to see how a twelve year old managed to survive such a creature, that is not why we are here today. Miss Granger, is there anything else you wish to say?”

“Some, though I believe I shall wait until Mr. Lockhart has had his say about what we just saw before I do.” Hermione said, glaring daggers at the man in question.

“Thank you Miss Granger,” The blonde phony said jovially, “Can everybody see me? Can everybody hear me? Good. I’m glad such a device was available. It isn’t often so many get to see my heroic efforts, I’m only saddened because they were for not.”

“What heroic efforts?” Hermione asked in disbelief, “You attacked two students, even professed to the intent to use memory charms on them.”

“I was trying to save them from themselves, you see.” Gilderoy waved her objections off, “Everyone knows how dangerous such places are, definitely not the place for school children. I intended to stun them, and return them to the school before battling the beast. They’re very lucky I was able to stop one of them from proceeding, a shame I couldn’t stop both.” As Lockhart got into his groove, he started grandstanding, playing to the audience and ignoring the panel. He also failed to notice Harry move back over beside Professor Flitwick and the pensieve. “Very dangerous creatures, Basilisks, it is fortunate I trained so long in their proper handling. Had the poor boys just listened to me, I could have had it wrangled in under a minute, with no one injured. I’m sorry the boy had to get hurt, but it’s really his own fault. This really is something best left to experts such as myself.”

“Mr. Lockhart, smile for the Camera!” Harry called, turning the glory hounds attention back towards the wall where the projection was displayed. 

“Camera?” Lockhart turned, smiling brightly just as Flitwick activated the pensieve. 

Harry had been adamant not to show anything from inside the chamber, but changed his mind as the ponce had belittle his near death experience. Wrangle in less than a minute you say? Harry had pulled a very specific fragment from the chamber, a mere five seconds. It was from the chase through the pipes, where the Basilisk had been right in front of him. The projection showed Harry’s view of the creature, almost as large as it was in person, on the wall. Lockhart’s scream was high pitched, shrill, and cut short as he collapsed boneless to the floor.

“Sorry Madam Director,” Harry said to the stunned silence, “But I was afraid that once he got going he’d never stop.”

Silence answered him. Looking around, he saw everyone staring at the wall where the projection had been, jaw gaping open. He looked up at the panel, and saw them just as frozen, just as shocked at what had just been seen. He turned to the Headmaster, and saw awe in his face, along with quite a bit of fear. He turned back to Hermione, and just had time to brace before he found himself wrapped in a bone crushing hug and her body shook in sobs, startling everyone back to the present. His mind barely registered a single set of purposeful footsteps walking up the hall as he wrapped his arms around Hermione to try and comfort her. It was several minutes before the hubbub died and Director Marchbanks regained some semblance of order.

“May I speak?” A clear authoritative voice asked, and all turned to the middle aged redhead witch standing behind the podium.

“Director Bones, I didn't realize you were here Ma’am.” Marchbanks said in surprise, “Of course you may speak.”

“For those who don’t know me, I am Amelia Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” The woman introduced herself with authority, then turned to harry and said in a kinder voice. “My niece told me I should be here today, she’s one of the ones that helped you research everything Mr. Potter.”

“Susan, Ma’am?”

“Yes indeed, who do you think she tested the letter altering ward with?” She confirmed before turning back to the audience. “What I saw here today, leaves me with many concerns. As an Auror, how such a creatures attacks could be kept from their parents and why it took so long to correct shake me to my core. My own niece, my daughter in all but name, goes to school here, and she was in as much danger as anyone, and that scares me as a parent. The apparent level of adoration this man achieved on lies concerns me as a citizen. Unfortunately, even with all that, I must close this review.”

The shouts of outrage, everyone assuming she was covering this all up, were loud, but quickly silenced with a few cannon blast spells.

“As I was saying,” She continued, her full authority filling her voice, “I must close this review because this man is now under arrest.” Hushed silence reigned. “The charges will be 732 counts of reckless endangerment of a minor, Fraud, two counts of assault on a minor, two counts of attempted manslaughter, two counts of Conspiracy to assault a minor, Attempted illegal Obliviation, and as many other charges as we may find as we tear his life apart.” She looked down at the crumpled for of Gileroy Lockhart, a pool of yellow liquid spreading from beneath him. “Auror Shacklebolt, Arrest this man.”

The roars and cheers lasted a very long time.

“Mr. Kare,” Madam Bones spoke again once Lockhart had been hauled away to the ministry. “Unfortunately your testimony would be inadmissible in a Wizengamot court hearing, which is the next place this tale will be told. I don’t agree with that particular law, but it is the law.”

“I understand Director.” Kare answered her as he stood.

“Therefore, I would like to send two of my Aurors with you to collect statements from the rest of your village when you return home.” Amelia’s voice carried a mischievous tone, “You’re testimony may not be permissible, but their testimony certainly will be.”

“Thank you Madam Director.” Kare bowed to the redhead.

“As for you two,” She turned to Harry and Hermione, “I can’t let you prosecute this case before the Wizengamot, or my prosecutor would be out of a job the next day.” Her grin was infectious. “That said, I'd like you two to turn over all your evidence, and your notes to him, so we make sure everything we can charge him with sticks.”

“Of course ma’am,” Hermione agreed.

“One last thing, Mr. Potter.” She looked at the small boy before her. “You really killed that thing?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Harry sighed, knowing what was to come.

“First off, I'm amazed you survived, much less killed it.” Madam Bones told him, “I know it’s early yet, but please consider becoming an Auror when you graduate, i could use men of your talent.”

“Thank you for the offer,” Harry Blushed, “But I had help, it wasn’t just me.”

“I see,” Amelia paused, “Would you be willing to allow me to view the memory of the battle? No one has fought of killed a basilisk in Britain in generations, and certainly not one that large.”

“I…” Harry hesitated, “There are other things involved director, things that if they ever came to light, could hurt people I care about. Not because they did something wrong, but because they were involved.” He glanced at Hermione, busy packing her notes, and turned back to the Director. “That said you are in a position to possibly help. If you give me your word to consider carefully before acting, I’ll give you the memory. It’ll have a lot of information for you to work off of, including Voldemort's real name. And another memory of a certain pompous blonde ‘upstanding’ member of society who cause the whole thing attempting murder. Are you sure you want it?””

“Hell yes I do.”


End file.
